


If Life Had A Rewind Button

by Dandelioff



Series: Hope In A Bottle [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Apologies, Emotional Hurt, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Letters, Parent-Child Relationship, Regret, Retrospective, This is sad stuff, Why do I do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelioff/pseuds/Dandelioff
Summary: "In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make. "The first to put in a note was Dick.  If you asked him now, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what prompted it.This part 2 of a series called 'Hope In A Bottle'
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Hope In A Bottle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976341
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	If Life Had A Rewind Button

**_In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make._ **

The first to put in a note was Dick.

If you asked him now, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what prompted it. Guilt? Grief? Maybe it was the knowledge that he’d failed at living up to the one value his parents had done their best to instil in him- family.

From the moment he’d been old enough to understand, they’d sat him down as often as they could, filling his head with stories of their people, of the circus and how important family was. From dat and day, to old Haly and Zitka, he’d been surrounded by so much love. Until that fateful night had ripped it away.

But then Bruce and Alfred had stepped in, reserved and unsure, but so kind and just as full of love. His new family was small, but they’d made it work.

When Jason had come in, sparking with righteous anger and insecurity, Dick had been in no state of mind to accept him. All Jason had wanted was a place to fit in, and he’d tried so hard to do his best. Dick had taken his frustration out on a child who’d done nothing but work immeasurably to rise above his circumstances only to have it thrown back in his face. Dick ruined the one shot he’d had at watching his family grow.

And now he’d never get to apologize.

He could’ve had a little brother. He _did_ have a little brother, but he’d never taken the time to get to know him, to talk to him. Now he never could. The finality was devastating. It tore through his chest like shards of glass.

He hadn’t even made it to the funeral.

While he’d been living it up in space, Jason had been out there, all alone, calling out for help. But no one had come.

Jason had died- because Bruce had been too late, and Dick had never been there at all.

It was almost too much to bear sometimes, and talking to Jason’s gravestone was unbearably painful. So he decided to write a note.

He’d been storming through the parlour after his third argument with Bruce in as many days, when the bottle caught his eye. He’d only meant to read the messages, perhaps self-flagellate some more, but in a daze, he found himself sitting behind his desk, frantically scrawling self-recriminations onto a page blotted with tears.

His fingers were trembling and he could barely see past the sheen in his eyes. He was so so sorry. He sucked in a harsh breath and clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white.

But this wasn’t right. This little jar wasn’t meant to absolve him of his culpability. It was a haven for all the good things in Jason’s life. He wouldn’t be the one to ruin it.

He crossed out what little he’d managed to pen down before just crushing the paper into a ball and tossing it into the bin. He bit his lip and pulled out a fresh sheet, smoothing out the corners.

He wrote about the good things. Those bright mornings, a precious few, where Dick had been home for the weekend, Bruce hadn’t managed to put his foot in his mouth, and Jason had been allowed to be the carefree child he’d been. That one weekend they’d spent together in Aspen, taking down a kidnapping ring and teaching Jason how to ski. He’d been so insistent they come back and bring Bruce with them next time. Because Bruce spent too much time pushing himself and not enough on relaxation. That’s why he had them, he’d said, Robins. So they could take care of Bruce while Bruce took care of everyone else. 

He sucked in a harsh breath, and squeezed his eyes shut. A whirlwind of half formed moments and untaken chances flashed before him. His shoulders quivered. He forcefully shook himself out of it. “There were good times, too”, he whispered. Echoes of the relationship they might’ve shared. There weren’t many, but they were happy.

He stood up, legs slowly steadying.

The pen was put down on the table and the letter was folded carefully and placed in the jar. The jar itself found its way back to its new home on the mantle.

There would be time for sorrow later. For now, Dick was going to drag his brooding father from whatever corner he’d chosen to punish himself in, and spend the day outside. Maybe they’d go that park Jason had liked, and have a small picnic. God knows it’s been long enough since he’d eaten anything substantial. Alfred would help. He exhales through pursed lips and clenched teeth.

Things would get better. Not right away, and maybe not even in six months, or a year. But they’d get there. To honour Jason, and celebrate the bright burst of starlight he’d been.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](https://dandelioff.tumblr.com/) now! Feel free to drop by


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